


I Wanted to See the Universe

by sunbug1138



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: TARDIS - Freeform, The Corsair - Freeform, The Untempered Schism - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbug1138/pseuds/sunbug1138
Summary: I started this piece about four years ago... and it languished until late August as a barely legible scrawl stuffed in a folder with some notes for a long since abandoned project. I found it again over the summer while looking over old writing (most of it dreadful) and decided it wasn't too bad and worth tidying up.There is a second part to it which I hope to get posted over the next few weeks.





	1. I Wanted to See the Universe...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Eyed_Suzannah_Q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Eyed_Suzannah_Q/gifts), [LoveThemFiercely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemFiercely/gifts), [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts).



> I started this piece about four years ago... and it languished until late August as a barely legible scrawl stuffed in a folder with some notes for a long since abandoned project. I found it again over the summer while looking over old writing (most of it dreadful) and decided it wasn't too bad and worth tidying up. 
> 
>  
> 
> There is a second part to it which I hope to get posted over the next few weeks.

‘Grandfather?’ The sing-song voice called through the labyrinthian stacks of books and papers. ‘Are you in here?’

The owner of the voice, a lithe girl with cropped dark hair threaded her way towards the incongruously ornate desk located roughly in the middle of the room where an old man sat hunched over a book that was nearly as ancient as he was. The silvery white hair skimmed his shoulders was not unkempt; to the casual observer his study might appear to be a mess - he had a system he insisted - but he was quite fastidious about his own appearance.

‘There you are.’ The girl sighed with mock exasperation as she approached him before breaking out into  a broad grin.

‘I don’t know why I asked, you’re always here.’ She added with a small laugh, before leaning down to kiss her grandfather on the cheek. Straightening up again she picked up and examined the top-most book from one of the many piles on his desk. They were new since her last visit. It was a modest stack, for him, of just seven books, all about someone called Harry Potter. They showed some signs of wear and each had little scraps of paper tucked between pages at various intervals.

‘What are these? A biography?’

Her grandfather hunched a bit more, his typical reaction when asked a troublesome question, such as: when was the last time you ate? When was the last time you slept anywhere but in this ratty old chair? He was reluctant to divulge the origin of much of the reading matter in his study. Many, these included, had been obtained via methods of the Council would mostly strongly disapprove. But his friend, the dashing, devil-may-care self-styled Corsair practically made it his life’s work to ignore the Council and had very few qualms about bending its rules to breaking point. He knew his friend was always glad of new material especially when it originated from an otherwise unremarkable blue-green planet.

‘No, novels. Fiction.’ He replied tersely, hoping it would be enough to end that particular line of enquiry; Susan’s personal reading tastes ran more to histories though she had a brilliant scientific mind and her parents foresaw a bright future ahead of her.

‘I see. I won’t ask where they came from then.’

 She hadn’t visited him for a few months while she had been preparing for the Rite of Passage. It seemed like there were a great deal many more books than the last time she had been there,  far more besides the new ones on his desk.

 

‘I don’t know how you manage to fit all of this in here.’ She remarked, gesturing towards the books that surrounded them. She only received a grunt in response. Best not to enquire then, she thought. Best she didn’t know. 

‘Anyway… The Rite was today.’ 

Her grandfather turned to face her, frowning, annoyed with himself for having forgotten her birthday, but glad that the Council had seen fit to double the age at which Gallifrey’s youth were presented to the Untempered Schism. Eight years old was far too young.

‘So, what was your impression of it Susan?’ he asked looking at her closely, his eyes narrowed.

Susan’s brows drew together as she considered his question. She pursed her lips as she tried to put her immediate reaction into words. It had been a strange thing looking into the Schism.

 

Beforehand she’d been very nervous, but once it was her turn she had felt strangely calm. She had seen and heard so much; it had seemed like she had gazed into it for eons when in reality it could only have been a minute or so. All she was left with now was a vague feeling. 

‘Blue’ she replied finally. ‘A deep blue, but not like the blue or the sea or sky.’

Her grandfather smiled thinly and nodded. He had seen something blue himself and then something else. Something that had made him run. 

Perhaps it had been the voice urging him to do so. It had called him a clever boy, and to an eight year old the library was where the clever boys ought to be.

And so, he hid himself amongst the shelves and stacks. He devoted his life to research, travelling across time and space in safety by means of his beloved books. To do so any other way instilled him with a feeling of dread. Though he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep hiding forever. No matter how much he tried to avoid it he knew he was doomed to run yet further still.

‘Grandfather?’ her voice called him back.

‘Eh, what?’

‘I asked, what did you see?’

‘Oh, nothing of any great importance.’

‘Shall we go then? Off to the museum, you did promise after all?’

He heaved a deep sigh, he had promised and sometimes you had to run, not away but towards. He picked up his cap and placed it on his head. Susan stopped him and  adjusted it to a jaunty angle and then looped her arm in his and together they wound their circuitous way through the forest of books, as they passed one short pile she grabbed a long, colourful scarf that was laying on it and wrapped it around her neck, laughing as she gave the end a flick.

  
  



	2. So I stole a Time Lord

“Here! Quick! Take it! They’ll never check you.” 

He looked down to find something papery thrust into his hand. He had no idea why it had to be hidden; it was blank, blanker than blank if that was possible.

Just a moment before Cor and Sy had been sniggering over something. And then they heard the voices of the approaching guards doing their rounds. They hugged into the alcove and that’s when Sy had shoved the strange paper into his clammy hands.

No, they wouldn’t check him.  _ He’d _ get a clip around the ear and be sent back to the barn while Cor and Sy would be escorted back to the city, and warned about associating with him and his  _ type _ . Though he could never figure out what type that was, as far as he could tell they were just boys, all three of them just eight years old, or they would be at sun up. Once he’d overheard someone saying something about his eyes. He had later asked Sy about it and he just shrugged it off.

 

“I’m  _ not _ looking at your eyes,” he had said as if he’d been asked to do something slightly perverse. Noticing his hurt reaction he softened his tone, “I’m not an eye doctor, if you can see out of them alright then they are fine."

The Council had deigned to allowed them to prepare together. But fraternisation outside of classes was very much frowned upon.

 

“What  _is_  this?” he asked as he gave the paper a slight shake to see if that was what made it do whatever  had caused his friends so much amusement. 

“Shh! It’s Psychic paper. Don’t wave it about!” Cor hissed.

He heard Sy mutter, “idiot,” before Cor elbowed him in the ribs.

“Come on let’s go find somewhere out of the way.”

  
  


In the end the three of them snuck out of the city and headed out towards the marshes. The barn where _he_ lived was on the opposite side of the city so he’d have quite the hike home, but he didn’t grumble, at least he was being included in their escapade.

Cor was the leader, charming and utterly fearless while Sy was the one who came up with the plans. He had a sharp, brilliant mind and seemed destined for greatness, or at least that’s their instructors said. He generally just tagged along. Cor and Sy seemed to be the only two in his class tolerate his presence, they were in fact rather fond of him but he always misread their attempts to assure him of this as teasing. This was by far the craziest idea.

They came to a sudden halt and, lost in his thoughts, he barrelled into Sy. “Watch out!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Here’s as good a place as any,” Cor announced crouching down behind a large clump of reeds.

 

He was less warmly dressed than his friends and he keenly felt the cold, damp breeze, but didn’t dare say anything for fear of being sent back. Instead he hugged himself to keep himself from shivering, least they think he was afraid. Which he was, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

 

“Ok give it here,” Cor held out his hand for the paper. He gave it to him and Cor then passed  it to Sy who peered at it with his icy blue eyes.

“What do you see Sy?” Cor asked.

 

“I don’t… see anything” Sy said haltingly. He winced sharply and the paper fluttered from his fingers as he clutched his hands to his temples.

Cor caught up the paper and handed it to him.

 

After Sy’s reaction he was reluctant to look at it, assuming it even would work for him.

 

“Go on! Not  _ scared _ are you?” Sy grumbled.

 

“It’s ok, I’ll go next,” Cor said, far more kindly. He gazed at the paper and then laughed long and hard.

“Oh that  _ will _ be fun.”

“What is it? What did you see?” Sy asked, craning forward to see what was visible on the paper.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know?” Cor grinned.  “Your turn now,” he added handing it to him.

 

Since Cor’s reaction was the polar opposite of Sy’s he felt somewhat bolder and he gamely took it. Even as his fingers closed about it he heard a voice in his head, sweet, and lilting but slightly… odd.

_ Come and see me in the marsh… THIEF! _

 

“Who lives in the marsh?” he found himself asking. Cor and Sy looked at each other.

“Well, no one, apart from the Mad Woman,” Sy said.

“I have to go and see her.”

“What?”

“Are you insane.”

“It’s what the paper said.” Well the voice really, but he felt that it was a summons he couldn’t ignore.

“Well, I’m not going there, “ Sy declared with surprising venom, “in fact, I’m going home. I’ve had enough of this. And you.” 

With that he stomped off leaving Cor looking rather confused. Both of his friends were acting strangely out of character; one was behaving like… well like an utter beast and the other seemed to have worked past his usual timidity.

“I’ll stick around if you like,” Cor offered.

“No, It’s ok you go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow for the Rite.”

Cor shrugged before turning away to run after Sy, calling out to him to wait up.

He watched until they were out of sight and then turned away from the city’s bright dome to scan the marshes for any sign of a building where a Mad Woman might live. He looked down to see that he still had the paper in his hand, finally he saw some writing on it: “TURN LEFT”

  
  


He was half-frozen and shivering when he finally fell against the rough wooden door of the strange cottage. His thin shoes were utterly waterlogged and he was seriously questioning his decision to come out here at all.

“Well, come in then,” came the sing song voice; but this time not in his head, but from the other side of the door. 

He grasped the handle and gave it a sharp tug.

 

“Pull! Pull. To. Open.” She called out, clearly exasperated. 

He did as directed and stepped into the small, warm cottage. It was very cosy and bathed in an inviting glow from the fire. 

Beside the fire in a chair sat a woman, or a girl perhaps. It was hard to tell. He was eight, or would be tomorrow and so to him, anyone over the age of about sixteen seemed impossibly ancient. Mostly because most Gallifreyans who looked a year or two over sixteen usually  _ were. _

“Really, for someone so bright, you can be remarkably  _ dim _ sometimes. Come sit down by the fire and warm yourself.”

She was doing something strange with some sticks and thread, she paused in what she was doing  to lean forward and look at him, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re smaller than I expected. Chin too.” She pursed her lips and made a funny face.

He pulled himself up to his full height, “I’m nearly eight.”

“Younger too,” she added with a sigh. “Now... sit! I’m not finished yet.”

He settled himself down by the fire, it was lovely and warm soon he was feeling much better. 

 

She continued her strange clacking activity with the sticks and thread. He found it fascinating and hypnotic to watch as the thread was turned into a longer, wider strip of fabric. Every now and again she would come to the end of one shade of thread, pause, grumble and then fish round in the basket by her chair for another ball and after a few moments continue.

“So you will have your Rite soon then?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” he replied.

 

A few balls later she suddenly announced, “we  _ could _ run away together, you and I.”

He wasn’t certain how to respond to that.

“Another time, another place, perhaps.” She sighed.

He wasn’t sure about this woman, he was inclined to like her, but he wasn’t sure he was quite  _ ready _ to. He got to his feet, he was pleased to note his shoes no longer squelched, though they would by the time he got back to the barn, where he didn’t expect a warm fire to be waiting for him.

 

“I should be going, my… er...friends will be wondering where I am.”

“Say hello to the pretty one for me.” The woman said with a wink.

“Who?” Neither of his friends were what he considered pretty. 

“The one who dresses as a centurion some times.”

He frowned, this woman really was as mad as the stories made out.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that… Spoilers as the Song goes.”

“What song?”

“Oh, The one in the library, " She replied in her sing-song way.

He just stared at her. 

She stood and clasped her fists to her temples.

“That’s the problem, this body... it's too confining. My mind… it wants to be everywhere and every...when. Need a better one... More space... ”

He started to back towards the door,  _ was it push or pull to exit _ , he wondered.

She advanced on him, smiling sadly.

“You have a big day tomorrow. And so do I. Here, take this.” She did some strange passes with the colourful wooden sticks and then handed him the thing she had made. It was long, really long. Longer than he was tall a good few times over.

“What  _ is _ this?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s called a scarf you daft noodle.”

He stood, rooted to the spot, holding it, uncertain what to do with its serpentine length. 

“Oh really,” she huffed, as she stepped up to him and wrapped it around his neck, once, twice and then a few times more until he was well and truly muffled.

“Now go, and get a good night’s sleep. You are going to need it.” She advised as she pushed him out the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was going to be two chapters - but it turns out I may have omitted a bit from chapter one which may* end up as a very short chapter three. Never mind, wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey after all ;-)
> 
>  
> 
> *I still can't decide...


End file.
